


A trick of the wind

by satelliteinasupernova



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Abandonment, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Death, F/M, Retcon, Summer, Time Travel, but it's mostly just a date at pop's, season one jughead, that jughead dies end of season 2 au except also not, these tags may be intimidating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 18:45:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16225082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satelliteinasupernova/pseuds/satelliteinasupernova
Summary: An unexpected encounter in the summertime. A catalyst for change.ora time travel fic.





	A trick of the wind

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [kayromantic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayromantic) and [RunaLiore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunaLiore) for looking this over for me!
> 
> You can see the art for this one shot on [tumblr.](http://satelliteinasupernova.tumblr.com/)

Jughead took a winding path, weaving beneath overhanging branches to stay within whatever shade he could find. The sun was high, beating down on Riverdale with relentless intensity. Mid-stride, he had already shrugged off his flannel shirt and tied it around his waist, but he could feel a bead of sweat slide down the side of his face from under his beanie. That, he wouldn’t be taking off, the sun be damned.

The drive-in was his current hideaway for the summer, but it had one major downside: No air conditioning. The temperature was comfortable in the evening and early morning, so he had taken to writing well into the night. Under the cover of darkness, the drive-in felt more like a secret refuge and less like what it really was; a compromise made to avoid home. Tucked into his sleeping bag against the corner wall, he could hear the harmony of bugs and the rustle of creatures in the woods nearby. The witching hour was always when his mind would spark, full of new ideas. Just the night before, he had managed to get on a good writing streak and hadn’t even noticed the time until it was well past 4 o’clock in the morning.

The downside of his late night inspiration, of course, was that he had slept in until just before noon and had woken up already sweating and overheated. After splashing his face with water and changing clothes, he ventured out to the one place he could make an easy escape. Pop’s diner was blessedly cool all summer long.

This was the closest thing to a summer routine that he had. Wake up, wander to Pop’s, head back to the drive-in, prepare for the nightly movie and maintain the projection booth until the crowd finally scattered. Then, he would write late into the night.

Just a few months ago, he had been anticipating very different summer plans. Video games with Archie, swimming at Sweetwater with Jellybean. Nights spent planning that summer road trip he had been talking about with Archie all year. The one Jughead wasn’t even sure was still happening anymore.

Instead, near the end of the school year, he had come home after manning the drive-in to find his dad halfway through a case of beer.

“Your mom and Jellybean went to stay at your grandmother’s,” was all that FP said. 

Later, he got the full story from Jellybean over the phone. Her explanation had been frequently interrupted by hiccups, her voice cracking as she tried to keep herself from crying. From her account, as soon as she had come home from school, their mom had ushered her to the passenger side of their beat up, 12 year old sedan. Their bags had already been packed and were stacked together in the back seat. Their mom’s only explanation was that she and Jellybean would be going to grandma’s for a visit. It wasn’t until they arrived that Jellybean saw that the trunk of the car was also packed to the brim with the rest of their belongings.

A few weeks later, tired of feeling like a helpless bystander while his dad popped the cap off of a new bottle before his last beer was even finished, Jughead packed what he could fit into a backpack and settled in at the drive-in.

The next day he had sent a series of texts to Archie to make plans, hoping to at least distract himself from his problems with video games, or maybe even—possibly—to talk out what had happened with a friend. In return, he had gotten radio silence. For all their planning and excitement during the school year, now that it was officially summer, Archie had completely ghosted. At most he would text hours later, and on the few occasions that they had met up, he had been distracted, quick to cut things short, and mostly staring at his phone the whole time.

And so, a summer at Pop’s and the drive-in it was.

Jughead sighed heavily, squinting up at the sun again. Finally, the wind picked up, rustling the trees nearby, sending a rush of cool air over his face. He almost didn’t notice the crunching sound of steps coming from the woods along the sidewalk. He looked up, expecting to have to nod awkwardly as someone crossed his path.

Instead, he paused at the familiar sight of Betty Cooper, hair tight in its usual ponytail, dressed in her characteristic vintage shirt and jeans. Looking perfect, in the way that only Betty Cooper could. Her tennis shoes were even still a crisp white. They hadn’t been stained at all by her apparent trek through the woods up to the road leading to town.

When she noticed him in front of her, she froze. It was then that he saw her completely, her expression in clear view. He immediately knew something was wrong. Her eyes were unmoving and full of an emotion he didn’t have a name for, but was so familiar to him that it felt nostalgic. In them, he could read speckles of warmth and longing, fractured by a deep sadness. It didn’t belong on the face of Betty Cooper. It was an expression that reminded him distinctly of his father.

With a breath, she spoke, the sound scattering his train of thought. “Juggie.” His name came out soft, almost reverent. The smile that bloomed on her face was full of relief. He felt immediately on edge. He feared the worst, without knowing what could possibly be wrong.

As she took a step forward, her expression hardened, ever slightly. With a spark of determination in her eyes, she looked more like the Betty Cooper that he knew. 

“Hey…” he started, knowing his uneasiness was clear in his voice, “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t getting back from your internship until school started back up.”

Quickly his mind was sifting through possibilities. Betty sent home from her internship? Dismissed? Not likely. Anything that would pull her away from that kind of opportunity had to be serious.

Betty’s smile flickered in response. She stopped only a few steps away from him and was staring at his face with a burning intensity. She didn’t answer his question.

The silence between them felt uneasy. Usually, Betty was an easy person to read, practically an open book. The Betty in front of him was a mystery, displaced from routine. He had never had an encounter with her where her actions were unclear before. It was unnerving.

He did know that something was wrong. Unsure of what to do, he started to reach out, at war with both his inclination to comfort her and his own uncertainty. Halfway in, he changed his mind, letting his hand drop back down, but Betty acted instead. She closed the gap between them in a swift motion and wrapped her arms around him.

Her grip was so tight that it was hard for him to breathe. Her hands clenched at his back as she dipped her head under his chin. Betty had hugged him before, but never like this. This was how he imagined soldiers coming home from war hugged their loved ones. Betty had been gone for a month, to a dream internship that by all accounts she was fully prepared for. None of this made sense.

He took a breath, his chest still tight from her embrace, and was hit with a distinct scent. The smell of smoke and deep spices. Incense, his brain supplied. It was a smell he associated with the tiny hole-in-the-wall bookstore just out of town. There, an incense stick was always burning by the register. The scent so pervasive that even the books smelled of it long after they had been purchased.

It wasn’t, however, a scent he in any way associated with Betty Cooper.

Jughead knew that Betty liked to change scented lotion with the season. Cinnamon and pumpkin for Fall, peppermint and gingerbread for Winter, floral for Spring, but for Summer it was always the distinct scent of sunscreen.

At some point it had become a joke between them.

“You can’t just come to school smelling like freshly baked cookies and not actually have any, Betts. That’s just torture.”

Betty had responded with a full, warm laugh. “Fine. I’ll bring some tomorrow as penance.” And she had. Of course she had.

When Betty released him, there was a shift in the air, and the scent of incense was gone. “Sorry,” she said, taking a full step back, her head dipping down to her chest. Discreetly, she wiped a tear from her cheek.

“What is wrong, Betts?” he asked, taking a step toward her to close the distance between them again.

Her mouth bobbed open for a moment as if she didn’t know what to say. Her hand came up to rest on his arm, softly, hovering just above his skin. When he stared down at her hand, she glanced down too, as though she hadn’t even noticed that she had reached out. She quickly brought her hand back down to her side again. She cleared her throat before she finally said, “Mind joining me at Pop’s?”

He sighed. She still hadn’t answered his question. “I mean, I was heading there anyway.”

She smiled slightly, looking almost thankful. “I could use a milkshake.”

  


Sitting across from Betty at Pop’s had never felt as performative as it did now. Betty was running her hand along the linoleum table as if reacquainting herself with it. Her shoulders were set straight, and her demeanor was oddly businesslike. It felt like he had stepped into her office, not like he was sharing the booth he had been sitting at every day for the entire summer.

Pop had looked surprised when Betty entered the diner with him, but perhaps reading her expression, hadn’t asked her about her sudden return. He had stayed only long enough to get their orders, a vanilla milkshake for Betty and a strawberry shake for Jughead, with a side of a burger and fries. His nerves were already getting to him, and he needed food to help swallow it down.

When they were left to themselves, Jughead tried again. “Now will you tell me what’s going on, Betty? You’re acting like someone died. It’s kind of freaking me out.”

A flicker of pain crossed Betty’s face, but she covered it with a hollow smile. “I don’t know how to start...” she said the words slowly, as though each one held weight.

She looked up to meet his eyes, and he tried to return her gaze in earnest. He wanted her to know that she could confide in him.

At the same time, a thought itched at the back of his mind. Wasn’t this what Archie usually did? Wasn’t Archie the one that Betty always turned to when times were tough? Jughead only learned problems in Betty’s life in hindsight. He wasn’t used to this. Facing directly across from Betty, and being the one to talk to her about it. He was always just the third party.

So why did it feel like Betty had come to find him?

“I have something to tell you,” she started. She closed her eyes, her eyebrows tense and drawn together. She took a breath and he felt himself take one with her. When she opened her eyes to look up at him again, a burning, desperate expression was etched on her face. He sat still, unable to look away, waiting for her to speak. “I know that it won’t be easy to believe, but I need you to, Jughead.”

He knew, then, why she had sought him out of all people. Jughead had always had a bit of an obsession with mystery and true crime, and it meant he was more likely to listen when a conversation got a little outlandish. So, she had come to him because out of everyone she knew, he was the best fit for whatever problem she had. She needed someone who might believe her, so she had chosen him.

It made sense, but the disappointment that came with his sudden understanding hit in a cold rush. For just a moment, it had felt like something had shifted between them. It was a change that he had always foolishly craved. “You know me,” he said, smiling grimly, “I’m always interested in a good story.”

Betty huffed in exasperation. “I’m serious, Jug.”

As he studied her face, he remembered her reaction to meeting him out on the side walk, the swarm of emotions on her face. She needed his help.

“What happened?” he repeated, his voice soft this time.

Her lips tightened briefly, and she reached across the table to cup one of her hands over his. “It’s not what happened, Juggie. It’s what’s going to happen.”

As he felt himself tense up, confused, she continued on. “This summer… This summer is the start of everything. Nothing will be the same after this,” she emphasized, “If we don’t act— If we don’t change it— people will die.” Betty’s hand was now gripping his painfully, and if not for that, he would have been convinced he had fallen into a daydream.

He wasn’t able to keep himself from responding with a brief huff of laughter, but Betty’s expression was dead serious. “How would you—” he tried. He started again, not even sure where his sentence was going, “What are you—” He failed a second time.

She continued on, not at all disheartened by his reaction. “It starts with Jason Blossom. You should try to save him if you can, Juggie. His father is going to try to kill him, and that is just the spark that sets off everything else.”

A shadow drew across Betty’s face, her words sharp and full of bitterness. “This town is festering under the surface. I didn’t know—I never knew. It was always…” As she trailed off, her eyebrows folded in. She shook her head, swallowing down her temporary panic and replacing it with a calmer expression.

Jughead didn’t know what to say or how to respond. He wanted to ask her if this was a game, some summertime prank, but the fire in her eyes was too strong and painful for him to doubt.

“I made a list for you,” she said, letting go of his hand so she could pat at her shirt, checking the front pocket.

“Betty…”

She glanced up at him, her hand paused mid air. Now that he had her attention, his mouth went dry, “How do you even know this?”

Her lips tightened to a line. She looked briefly conflicted. The words she finally spoke were quiet, hesitant, “I lived it, Juggie.”

He studied her, and it was then that he finally recognized her for who she really was. She wasn’t the Betty Cooper who had gone on to her summer internship with excitement and a bounce in her step. She still looked the same, dressed the same, but she was different. He may have known Betty since they were children, but the girl in front of him was older, with a deep set pain that he had never seen in her before.

Was this real? He wanted to reach out to touch her again, to be sure, but she had gone back to searching for something, this time leaning forward so that she could reach into her jean pocket.

She sighed with relief as she pulled out a small folded piece of notepaper. “Found it.” She held it out in the air between them. It was one sheet folded into a square. It had been pulled out of a spiral notebook, each of the small rings on the side of the sheet were torn.

He reached out for it, unsure of how to process the feelings that were flooding his chest. Panic, dread, but also, absurdly, a small bubble of excitement. He had to be dreaming. He had just been too absorbed in his writing last night, and here he was, dreaming it now.

He unfolded the sheet slowly, cautiously looking up at Betty. She only nodded with encouragement.

The notes were detailed in Betty’s characteristic clean handwriting. He could barely process the words in front of him, so he muttered them out loud to himself. It didn’t make the messages feel any less surreal. As he progressed through each line, he looked back up to Betty. She only nodded her head again to direct him to read the next.

 

  1. _Jason Blossom’s life is in danger. He is making plans to run away from home with my sister, Polly. Instead, on his father’s orders, he will be kidnapped on July 4th and killed. A serpent is involved. It would be best to get your father’s help before he gets pulled into the situation on his own._
  2. _Don’t trust Penny Peabody. Don’t ask for any favors, and don’t do any for her._
  3. _Warn me to watch my father, Hal Cooper. He is dangerous. If changes aren’t made, he will become a serial killer known as the Black Hood._
  4. _Hiram Lodge will join his family in Riverdale a few months after they move to town. He will secretly buy up land to build a for-profit prison in Riverdale. The mayor, the serpents, the ghoulies, and many others in the town will get bought out by him. It needs to be stopped early, if it will be stopped at all. Try to get his daughter, Veronica Lodge to understand the danger her father brings. She is on the inside, and has her own ways to impact the outcome. Hiram Lodge’s actions will hit the Southside worst of all._
  5. _Regardless, if you fail. Please, live._



 

When he had read through them all, he didn’t know where to start. “This is—” he was lost for words. “This _can’t_ be real,” he insisted, looking back up at Betty.

A humorless smile curled on her lips. “It is,” she gave in response.

He looked back down at the note, pulling off his beanie so that he could run a hand through his hair. He read through it again.

“So, these are... instructions? For me?” All of it felt too big. “Why me?”

Betty only looked confused, “What do you mean?”

“Why did you pick me to tell this to?” He looked back down at the list, “This is some serious shit, Betts. Why aren’t you taking this to the mayor, or I don’t know. Someone else.”

Betty gave out a huff of breath, and reached out across the table, pulling his hand away from the note so that she could thread her fingers through his.

“I’m not choosing you, _you_ chose this.”

There it was again, that pain deep in her eyes. His heart thudded against his chest, because he could clearly see something else there too, something that he recognized, but he didn’t dare name.  As she spoke again, the words echoed through him. “You are my partner in this, and you always will be.”

He thought again to what was written in the note. _Please, live_ , it had said. A panic settled in him, leaving a pit in his stomach. He looked over helplessly to the kitchen of the diner where his food was still being made.

“Jughead.” Betty pulled his attention back to her, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. “You can do this. I’m just giving you a headstart. So that—so that this time we can save this town.”

 _This time_.

He did believe her. If it had been anyone but Betty, he probably wouldn’t have. The things written in her note were absurd, but he knew the Betty Cooper in front of him had lived through it.

Her palm was still pressed solidly in his. He returned her grip with his own. Across the table, they held onto each other like a lifeline.

“This isn’t for you to do alone.” she said, pleading. “Please, don’t try to do this on your own,” her words coming out with a sob. “If you do, you’ll get torn apart.”

He felt numb. None of this could be real, but Betty’s hand in his was warm and firm. If he reached out to wipe Betty’s cheek, he knew it would be wet from her tears. That was all real. But that look that she was giving him couldn’t be. He _knew_ that look.

"I won’t. I won’t do this alone, Betty.”

At that, she finally smiled, full, and genuine. “You’ll tell me what I’ve just told you, right?” She gave a small laugh, “The version of me who is at her summer internship right now.”

“Will you even believe me?”

There was amusement in her expression, but her smile didn’t waiver, “Even if I don’t believe you, I’ll still help you.”

“Right,” he felt himself smile back. “Honestly, you’ve put a lot on my plate here, Betts.”

‘A headstart,” she said, simply. “Okay?”

“...Okay.” Resolve was starting to settle in. It wasn’t like he could really deny Betty Cooper anything, anyway. Especially not when she was looking at him like that.

Not when she was looking at him with clear, recognizable love in her eyes.

The pressure of her hand in his lessened. For a moment, he thought she was letting go, but when he looked down, their hands were still entwined.

“Out of time,” she said with a sigh. Tears were one by one, sliding down her cheeks. “I miss you already.” Her voice sounded heartbroken.

“Betty—” He had never managed to ask her what had happened to him, but there was still that feeling of panic that had never left the pit of his stomach. He was pretty sure that he knew, and he was too afraid to hearing the words out loud. “It’s going to change, Betty. Don’t worry.”

She smiled again, “I’m not worried.” And before he had a moment to respond, she sat up to lean forward over the table until her lips landed heavily on his. He could feel her weight anchored to him, supporting her balance against the table. Her nose was resting against his cheek. There was warmth radiating off of her, and her lips tasted just slightly salty from her tears. Again, he could smell that deep scent of incense.

Then, just as quickly, the weight eased. He opened his eyes, but Betty hadn’t pulled away from him. Her form had dissolved. She was a blur, dispersing like smoke in the wind. Soon she was gone completely, leaving only the remnants of incense in the air. Eventually, even that was gone.

At first, he could only sit in place, his emotions still burning through him. It wasn’t until Pop set food in front of him that the moment broke.

“Your usual,” Pop said as he slid over a hamburger and fries, and next to it his strawberry shake. The vanilla shake was still on the tray, but Pop stared at it instead of placing it on the table.  

He chuckled to himself, “Must've gotten carried away with your order, Jug.  Don’t know where my head is today.” Setting the shake down, he added, “If there is anyone who can make it through two shakes, it’s you.  This one‘s on the house.” He didn’t once glance at the spot where Betty had just been.

Jughead stared at the vanilla shake as a bead of water from the chilled glass slid down the side. The only proof now that Betty had been there moments before.  The only—

In a rush of motion, Jughead looked down at the table, moving his food to clear the way for his search. He found nothing. Her note, his instructions, had left with her.

But he still remembered.  He could still remember her presence and the feeling of her lips against his. He knew what he had to do. 

With one hand, he stuffed a mound of fries in his mouth. With the other, he reached over to the napkin holder, pulling a bundle of napkins out in his haste. Finally, once he had a pen from his bag, he rushed to take notes. He began:

 

  1. Jason Blossom’s life is in danger.




End file.
